Now I Remember
by Falonian
Summary: Germany struggles with his feelings for Italy, not understanding why the happy-go-lucky nation makes him feel so warm and caring. Super-fluffy GerIta, Kesesese
1. A Confusing Awakening

**First fanfiction ever over here guys! Tried my best!**

**I love Hetalia and GerIta so yeah, GerIta fluff.**

**Hetalia and characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya of course, as we all know.**

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It was early in the morning. Germany slowly came back to the real world, while the movements of a dream quickly faded away in his mind. It had been about a boy... Or no, a girl... Or both... He didn't recall. But it didn't matter. Or did it?

He'd had dreams like those a lot over the past few weeks, and it seemed it was the same one every time, although he never managed to remember more than a couple of colours, and the shady profiles of two people looking at each other.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes and wanted to get up, when a certain noise caught his attention, and just when he heard it, he felt a soft pressure on his chest and a bit surprised he looked down.

Italy's head was resting on his chest, while making the puffing noise he always made when he was sleeping.

The time when Germany was shocked if he found out the happy nation had been sleeping in his bed once again was long gone already. It seemed to him that Italy hadn't even touched his own bed over the last three months. He just came to Germany's room and lay down next to him, falling asleep almost immediately.  
Over the night, however, Italy apparently moved a lot, because often Germany woke up with the guy quite close to him, sometimes even in some sort of hug, as on purpose. This was the first time he found the Italian this close to him though, using him as a pillow. He wasn't quite sure how to react, but his expression softened and he lifted an arm to place his hand gently on Italy's head, when suddenly, his body froze entirely.

_What was he doing?_

Moreover, _why _was he doing whatever he was doing? Why hadn't he woken up Italy immediately and gone out training, but instead watched the nation while he slept? Why did he want to stroke his hair? Want to... Touch him?

Angrily and confused, Germany poked Italy and said with a demanding tone: 'Italy, get up already!' The smaller male sleepily mumbled and opened his eyes a bit.

'Come on, get off of me!' Germany commanded while pushing the Italian so he would move. Instead, the nation just nuzzled a bit into Germany's chest and after a 'Buongiorno Ludwig' he seemed to fall asleep again.

Germany just stared at him. Italy next to never used his human name. Actually, Germany couldn't even remember the last time he had heard the word 'Ludwig' coming out of Italy's mouth, if he had ever even said it.

It took him a while to fully get that. Then, he looked out of the window and saw that they were falling behind on schedule. The sun had almost fully risen, and they really had to start soon or the day would be waisted.

Germany shook his head, forgetting about all the thoughts that were racing through his mind and pushed Italy off his chest. Immediately the guy woke up.  
'Veeee!' he said startled, and then, after noticing the tall blond man beside him, 'Good morning Germany!' with his biggest smile.  
Germany got up quickly and started dressing.

'Gutenmorgen Italy,' he said with a moody tone - even though he did not at all feel like that. But ever since Italy had slept aside of him, he acted as he had done that first morning - moody and annoyed. Even though he didn't even mean it anymore.

'Have you slept well?' Italy said while he slowly got up as well and started to dress.  
'Some sort of.' Germany was completely dressed already and slicked his blond hair backwards. He quickly made up the bed, being the neat man he was, and opened the curtains a bit more. When he had finished his tasks and turned around, he saw that Italy was having trouble with the buttons of his blue uniform.  
'Let me help you with zhat,' Germany sighed, as he walked towards the other nation.

While he was doing up the buttons, he heard Italy talking happily: 'I slept great. I had a beautiful dream and...' Germany did not listen to what came next. Italy didn't seem to remember where exactly he had woken up, and what he had done. Germany could actually still feel some of the remaining warmth on his chest. He was relieved that Italy didn't remember, but a small part of him, hidden deep inside, was disappointed.

Germany widened his eyes, shocked when the thoughts crossed his mind, and shook his head again to get rid of them. He didn't understand anything of himself at the moment, and it annoyed him to no end.

'Eh, Germany?...' Italy said suddenly. Germany realised it had been quiet for some time already, and although had finished doing up Italy's buttons, he still stood very close to him while thoughts lingered through his head. The small Italian looked up at him with big eyes. 'Vee! Are you okay?'  
Germany abruptly turned around and walked out of his bedroom. 'I'm fine,' he grumbled.

'Vee, no you're not, Germany,' Italy came close behind him. 'Did you have a bad dream?'  
'No.'

'Are you sick?'

'No, of course not.'

They were now heading downstairs and Italy quickly passed Germany and halted a couple of stairs beneath the taller nation, blocking the way.

'Well maybe you really should-'

The sudden, impending look the German gave him frightened Italy so much that he almost burst out into tears.

'Be silent!' ordered Germany with his deep voice. That was too much for the Italian, and out of fear he wanted to walk backwards. He had forgotten their current position though, and when his foot hit nothing but air he stumbled backwards and fell down the stairs. He smashed against the floor with the back of his head and yelped. Then he went silent and didn't move anymore.

'Italy!' Germany screamed shocked. He ran down the stairs and inspected Italy's head. There was nothing on the outside, but the Italian was clearly unconscious. Then he quickly looked if there were any broken bones or other wounds, but found nothing.

'You are lucky,' he mumbled when he took the Italian in his arms and carried him back upstairs. 'That could have been a lot worse.' He looked down at Italy's face, and felt a gulf of regret and pain flowing through his body. This was his fault. He had gotten mad at the bubbly Italian, and scared him so much he had hurt himself. And why? Because he was mad at himself, for not understanding his own feelings and thoughts.

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**So... I hoped you guys enjoyed it, more chapters coming up soon if everything goes right and life doesn't keep getting in the way.**

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


	2. A Glimpse Of A Memory

**Chapter two for you guys! A bit shorter than the last one (slower as well) but I still hope you enjoy it!**

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Germany hurried upstairs while carrying Italy in his arms and stumbled into his room - though it could be referred to as 'their room', if you thought about it. He carefully placed Italy on his bed and started to undress him until he lay there in his boxers and a shirt. Although the smaller male slept dressed like that next to Germany every night, it did cause the latter to blush a little, and he quickly pulled up the covers until only Italy's head was visible.

'Zhere,' Germany said softly while stroking some of Italy's bangs out of his face. 'I'm sorry Italy, I didn't mean to... To scare you like zhat und...' The moment he realized what his hand was doing he was cut off by his own gasp and his arm shot back. His blush grew even darker and his gaze went back and forth between Italy and his own strong hands.

_Why? Again?_

To try get his mind off his own actions, Germany quickly started to fold Italy's clothes neatly and fix some other little things in the room that caught his attention, but it didn't work. If anything, it only made it worse; he could barely think about anything else but that what he was trying to get rid of.

He just didn't understand. What made him do these things? Why did he feel so flustered when around Italy, and overly concerned about the smaller male at that?

'Vee...'

Germany turned around when he heard it, and jumped a little when he saw two half-opened eyes staring back at him.  
'Italy! You're awake!' Germany said relieved and kneeled down next to the bed to look the other nation in the eyes.

'Vee... Ger.. many...' Italy mumbled with the faintest of smiles on his face. 'My head... it hurts...'

'Ja, I know Italy,' Germany spoke as hushing as he could. 'But it's okay. It vill be over soon, I promise.' Italy nodded a little and closed his eyes again, while Germany stayed silent for a couple of minutes. He then took a breath and spoke again.

'Look, Italy, I am sorry I scared you. It's my fault you fell down and...' His voice trailed off, and Germany looked closely at the other male. Did he hear that just now or?...

Yes. A puffing noise. Italy's puffing noise. Which meant the guy had already fallen asleep again.  
Had it been any other nation, Germany would have started yelling at him that instant for falling asleep while he was talking, but now, he only smiled and looked at Italy. He couldn't deny it: Italy truly looked cute in his sleep.

Once again disturbed by his own wandering mind, he stood up and went to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Now it hadn't been a good day for Germany. He had gotten mad at Italy, made the poor nation hurt himself, had to skip training for the day and worst of all: he was downright going mad because of feelings he had that he didn't understand.

His day got even worse when he saw what had happened downstairs: The Bad Touch Trio apparantly had thrown a quiet party, and had not cleaned up after themselves. The house was a total mess, and the culprits had already disappeared.

Germany almost slammed his fist against a wall - which would have caused the whole house to shake - but remembered Italy sleeping upstairs just in time. Instead he grumbled German curses and angrily walked - better, marched - towards the kitchen. He could clean up later on, he had to get Italy some food first. Having had a concussion and then waking up with nothing to eat at all and a hurting head was not a nice experience. He knew it, thanks to Gilbert.

Speaking of which... Now Germany thought about it, it was quite strange that Prussia hadn't cleaned up after himself. In contrast to what others often thought, Prussia was just as much of a cleaning freak as Germany. After all, it was Prussia who had raised Germany. The guy just didn't show it.

Then again, things like this had happened before, and usually the reason was that the Bad Touch Trio, already drunk, had gone to another house to continue partying. Considering the fact that they had to stay quiet at Prussia's house because of Germany, that was probably what had happened, Germany concluded.

He sighed and continued making breakfast. He decided Italy deserved someting tastier than the healthy but not very appealing food they usually had, and so he ended up going upstairs with a mug containing warm milk in his left hand, and a plate of pasta in his right. Maybe a strange combination, but Germany knew Italy would love it. He himself hadn't eaten anything yet.

Inside their room, he noticed that Italy was still sleeping, but he had moved a lot while doing so: He now lay completely on Germany's side of the big bed, his face buried in the blond's pillow.

Germany blushed a bit, though he couldn't quite decide why. _Maybe because he thought Italy looked absolutely adorable like this. Or just the fact that the smaller male had occupied Germany's side bed instead of his own. Or maybe because Germany suddenly remembered how much he liked Italy's smell._

The blush on his cheeks deepened and he quickly set down the food on a dresser when he heard Italy saying something in his sleep.

'Holy... Holy Rome... No...'

Germany froze. He _knew _that name. He was sure of it. And somehow he knew where in his memories it belonged. The place of which only a black gap remained. His early childhood.  
What had Italy to do with that?

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**HOLY ROME~! Yeah, my originality is amazing -_- But I really wanted to do something with it, the theory is too great not to write about it.**

**Next chapter will be better I promise/hope! It will probably be longer than the these two, and maybe the last one, though if it gets too long I'll probably split it in two. And it will get fluffier than fluffy in the end :D**


	3. A Fulfilled Promise

**I finally managed to write the third - and last chapter! Took me quite a while to come up with a good storyline towards the end... I eventually just sat down and wrote it down in two hours without a break, hehe.**

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Germany stood perfectly still, staring at Italy, and tried to make up his mind. He wanted to shake the Italian until he spoke, until he'd say how he knew these words, that cut their way so deep into Germany's memories. He wanted to yell, to demand the other male to speak up, he wanted to know the truth.

But he decided against it.

At this very moment, the only thing Italy needed was to heal completely. To eat, to rest, to feel okay. A shocked Germany that couldn't contain himself was not going to help with that. Thus, the blond hid his emotions behind a mask, returning to being the stoic soldier he usually was.

_Except around Italy, that is, right? _He thought to himself with a bit of self-mockery. Though he didn't show it. Of course he didn't. Even with no one around to see.

Germany reached out his hand to wake Italy. _It's very well possible he doesn't even know anything about it. He's asleep after all..._ He gave the Italian a nudge against his arm, which caused the brunette to stir a bit, and then came a drowsily spoken: 'Ve... Pasta...' Germany almost chuckled when it was followed by a 'PASTA!' and an eager Italy almost jumped out of the bed, but he held it in and pushed the Italian back on the matress.

'Ve, Germany!'

'Lie down, Italy. You had a concussion, it vhould be vhise to rest.'

'Ve Germany!' The other nation repeated, while looking at him with shining amber eyes. 'Is that why you made pasta?'

'Ja. After all, it was my fault you fell, and well, I thought... I thought you deserved it because of it, a-and... I vhanted to apologise,' Germany said flustered, while cursing himself for it.

Not a second after it he was glomped by the Italian before him. He akwardly returned the hug, not entirely sure what to do, not being used to hugging people.

'Ve! It's okay, Germany! Don't feel sorry about it! Let's enjoy the pasta together!' Italy saide happily, releasing the now slightly blushing German, and reached for the plate of pasta, which he quickly - and messily - began to eat.

'Germany, it's perfect!' He exclaimed after a few bites.

'You thought me so,' Germany answered, and his words were accompanied by a rare, yet genuine smile. He was quite relieved that he made the pasta well, to be honest.  
Italy was pretty much the prince of pasta after all.

'Ve!' Was all Italy replied with, and he continued eating and emptied his mug. When his plate was still half filled, he lay down his fork and shoved the plate towards Germany over the sheets. Immediately Germany was worried. Italy not finishing a plate of pasta?

'Italy! Are you sick? You haven't finished eating,' the taller male asked.

'No, Germany, though my head still hurts a bit. But I told you we would enjoy the pasta together, right? It's really delicious, you should eat some yourself!'

Germany frowned. 'Vhat, but, Italy, I'm really not hungry...' He hadn't finished his sentence yet, or the room was filled with a rumbling sound, that obviously came from Germany's tummy.  
The nation was stunned. He was a trained soldier, he should be able to deal with hunger for days! This wasn't supposed to happen! Ashamed he looked at Italy, but instead of the laughter he had suspected to receive, a concerned look was sent his way.

'Ve, Germany... Haven't you had breakfast yet?'

'Vhell, no, but...'

Italy looked at him with big eyes. 'But Germany! You always say breakfast is important! You have to eat, too! I don't want you to get sick!'

Germany smiled, deeming it highly unlikely he could get sick of skipping breakfast, but finished the plate nonetheless. He thought it was okay, but Italy's pasta was a hundred times better. All the while he ate, Italy blabbered about everything that came to his mind, and he listened quitely. Usually he scolded Italy for talking too much, but at the moment, it was oddly comforting.

At long last, he thought it was time for him to go. He had cleaning to do. He looked at Italy and waited until the brunette had finished his story about Venice and Romano who fell into a canal, after which he announced he would be going downstairs and walked towards the door.

'Ve, but Germany, why?' Italy exclaimed.

Germany grumbled. He liked to clean up, but this mess... 'I need to clean up after my brother.'

Suddenly Italy sat up straight. 'Ve! May I help, Germany? May I help?'

Surprised by the enthusiasm in Italy's voice, Germany turned around. 'Vhould you like to?'

'Sí!' Italy smiled, and he jumped out of the bed. 'You have done a lot for me today, so now I'll help you!'

Germany rushed back into the room. 'But does your head feel fine?'

'Ve, it's really not hurting that much anymore, Germany! You helped me to get better!'

Germany's cheeks turned a bit pink once again. 'Vhell then...' He sighed. Quickly he helped Italy to into his uniform - Italy didn't want to wear it at first, but Germany told him that if he wanted to get up, he had to wear normal clothes and Italy didn't dare go against that icy blue gaze - and they went downstairs.

'Ve! It really is a mess!' The brunette concluded when he had looked around the house. 'This will sure take some time.'

'Ja. Let's start right away,' Germany said, and gave the Italian a deck brush and some other cleaning stuff. 'I'll take zhe living room, so you can do zhe kitchen,' he demanded, 'and we'll do zhe dining room together.'

'Sí!' Happily the Italian hurried towards the kitchen, and Germany made work of his part of the house. After an hour or so, Italy came to tell him that he had finished his task, and thus they finished the living room together.

'I think we've had zhe worst part now,' Germany sighed when he had finally managed to get rid of an extraordinary persistent stain of whatever-kind-of-alcholic-drink on the couch. He looked around to see Italy swiping the floor a bit with his deck brush. It looked strangely familiar, alsmost as if he had seen it many times before... He seemed to remember something... A green dress...

And with that little thing, it all crashed down upon him.

His world went black for a second, and suddenly darkness was followed by a whirlwind of colours.  
_A beautiful white house that was his home...  
Piano music floating through the halls...  
An enormous field of flowers...  
At little girl - no, no, a boy - in a green dress cleaning a corridor...  
_Germany could sense a warm feeling in his chest now. That boy, that boy had a curl...  
_Another boy, but with blond hair and blue eyes, like his own, and clothes as black as a raven...  
That day in the fields, where he thought he'd been turned down...  
The other day, when he went off to war, and had to leave her - him - behind...  
How he had come after him...  
The deck brush symbolizing their feelings, how odd it may have looked...  
A kiss...  
A promise...  
War, fights...  
Pain..._

Nothing.

Germany gasped. Italy. Italy. It had been Italy. The boy in the dress had been Italy! And he... He had loved him, hadn't he? He had loved the boy in the dress - though he had thought he was a girl. He had made a promise to come back. But he hadn't. Holy Rome, it was he himself, and he had never returned...  
He had died.

Shocked and broken by having his memories of his childhood back, he looked at Italy, who hadn't yet noticed his strange behaviour, and at that very moment, he realised something.

_He loved Italy._

Why else would he always be flustered around him, why else was he always concerned about his well being? Why else would his heart flutter in his chest whenever the Italian touched him?

Why else did he want to be with him forever, and protect him from whatever may come?

Because he loved him.

Slowly Germany walked across the room towards Italy. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he needed to be with the Italian. He needed to tell him he had returned. He needed to tell him everything. To tell everything he felt. He came to a stop when he was about three metres away from the other nation, and softly said: 'Italy.'

'Ve? Germany? Are you alright?' Italy looked up at the taller blond and stopped sweeping. 'You look unhappy.'

'Yes, Italy, I think I am alright,' Germany replied with a sad smile. 'In fact, I know I am. I have returned, Italy. I don't know if you remember me from back then, or vhat I promised all those years ago, but I do now. I do now. And I have returned for you.'

For five seconds, it was like time had stopped. Then, Italy began to cry. A cry of despair, of sadness, of hope, of relieve, a cry which contained emotions over hundreds of years. He fell into Germany's arms, barely able to support himself, and clutched the back of the other's uniform. Germany's strong arms wrapped tightly around the Italian's shaking frame, and he rested his chin on the brown hair.

In contrast to what he had thought, he didn't need to tell anything.

Because not a single word was needed for the both of them to know what the other felt. Not a single word was needed to make sure he would never leave again. Never, ever again.

That night, they silently lay down together. Germany on his side, Italy on the other one. But soon, Italy felt strong arms wrapped themselves around him, and he nuzzled into the muscular chest that belonged to the man he had been waiting for for all those years. He could hear Germany's steady heartbeat, and it slowly lulled him to sleep. Though before he completely dozed off, he wriggled up a and softly brushed his lips against Germany's. Germany's grip tightened a bit, but in a good way. In a way that let Italy know he was happy. Happy with that small kiss. Happy to have Italy there, in his arms.  
With a contented sigh, Italy curled up next to Germany again, and continued to listen to the other's heartbeat.

It was the most comfortable position he could imagine. And frankly, Germany thought exactly the same.

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**Finally! I got to write the ending, the reason why I wrote three whole chapters of a fanfic, just for the ending! AND IT'S FLUFFY! I hope you guys enjoyed it! (Also hope the fluff didn't choke y'all!)**

***sighs* Fluffy GerIta **


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